Sunday, December 20, 2009

In which Facebook users put the LA police department firmly in its place

You hear that sound of cash registers ringing? That's the sound of cash registers ringing at Sony HQ after half a million people who didn't want whatever it was from the X Factor to be number one at Christmas decided to buy some mediocre rock-rap from a subsidiary of the same major record label instead.

And so it came to pass that Rage Against the Machine reached number one; Simon Cowell and the LA Police Department have doubtless been put firmly in their places and the man has had it well and truly stuck to him. It is not clear whether all those who bought the record celebrated by slamming their bedroom doors shut, turning up the volume and refusing to do the washing up and indulging in other forms of adolescent rebellion.

Much as one applauds the desire to kick out against the particular brand of simpering vacuity that Cowell peddles so effectively, one does wish the people leading the campaign against him had put a bit more thought into the effort. Ignoring the blighter rather than ensuring he got even more damned publicity would have been ideal; failing that a better choice of record would have been ideal. Not only can Rage Against the Machine be blamed for abominations like Limp Biscuit (as they would be called if they could damned well spell), their music was used by the CIA to torture terrorist suspects, which rather serves them right.

If one feels the need to indulge in noisy, Californian, teenage rebelliousness it might be best to go back to the source of that sort of thing with the Dead Kennedys. Kill the Poor, would have a nicely festive feel to it; while Too Drunk To Fuck would be perfect for the party season.



However, had the anti-Cowellites asked me, and you may well question why they did not, I would have suggested the song posted above: Wreck A Buddy by the Soul Sisters. A fine example of the innuendo (and obscenity)-laden Slack genre of reggae, set to the tune of The Little Drummer Boy. Happy bleeding Christmas.

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This really has nothing to do with the above except a vaguely musical theme. But the following Washington Post cock-up has, quite rightly, been chosen as correction of the year.

A Nov. 26 article in the District edition of Local Living incorrectly said a Public Enemy song declared 9/11 a joke. The song refers to 911, the emergency phone number.

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